


to the clouds above

by vindice



Series: everyone knows the stars come out at night [4]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Coping, Florist Bermuda, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Jaeger Has Scars, M/M, Multi, Skull Is a Good Bro, Tattoo Artist Jaeger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:14:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23020774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vindice/pseuds/vindice
Summary: They just keep running into each other.
Relationships: Jager/Bermuda von Veckenschtein, Skull/Verde (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!)
Series: everyone knows the stars come out at night [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1045962
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	1. day one

**Author's Note:**

> Companion piece for my [Tattoo/Florist AU](https://apiratefellinlovewithastar.tumblr.com/post/185774044989/day-6-cloud-day-crossoverfusion-flower)!
> 
> For the _Katekyou Hitman Reborn!_ Rarepair Week 2019, **Day 3 - Sun Day: First Kiss** | Time Travel, and **Day 6 - Cloud Day: Crossover/Fusion** | **Flower Shop/Tattoo Artist**
> 
> I’ve had this in my drafts since forever, so I thought: ‘ _hey, might as well post it as a multichapter. you might even get around to adding more details along the way!_ ’

The flower shop across the studio is well-known throughout town, and has been around for as long as Jaeger can remember.

He used to go there and buy his mother her favorites when he was a child, whenever she was working doubles at the hospital. Back then, it was run by a sweet old man who always greeted Jaeger with a smile and used to say _‘on the house,’_ when he sneaked a daffodil into each of the bouquets he bought from him.

He might have retired in the years Jaeger went away, because right now it’s been opened by a young man. A relative, maybe, since the shop still has the same name. He’s not about to ask Skull, lest he get ideas.

Jaeger can’t see much of his face because he’s bent over the lower panel of the glass door, but he has dark short hair and when he looks up Jaeger sees round silver glasses framing his face. He’s also wearing a black cardigan over a plain white shirt and gray jeans, like the ones he’s seen Skull buy for Verde when they visited Jaeger in the city. Chinos, he thinks they’re called.

Jaeger doesn’t know how long he’s been staring, but he knows he is because he can feel Skull’s gaze, equal parts judgmental and amused, burning holes on the back of his head for making him wait.

He’s about to turn around to walk into his beloved and dearly missed tattoo parlor, when the man looks up from where he’s arranging a few planters on the window, and their eyes meet.

Jaeger promptly runs into the door.

Skull’s boisterous laughter as he helps him inside is just enough of a distraction for his pride; if he focuses on plotting revenge against his best friend he can ignore dying of embarrassment over the florist’s, admittedly cute, half hearted attempts at hiding his mouth behind his hand.


	2. day two

“Jaeger, the toaster is on fire!”

He’s startled by the sudden movement in his periphery, but he still reacts on time to catch the wet rag Skull throws at his face.

“Ughhh,” Skull groans. Jaeger ignores him in order to unplug the cable and put out the smoke before any actual fire starts, but he can still see the ghost of it lurk about, shadows being swallowed by flames that aren’t really there…

He snaps back to the present before he can be engulfed by his memories.

Jaeger sets down the rag and scrubs his face tiredly.

“What is wrong with you,” Skull doesn’t quite screech, “you love that thing!”

Jaeger sighs, before genuinely saying, “I’m sorry. I’ll buy you a new one.”

Skull clicks his tongue, chin on the table and head resting over his arms now that the danger has passed. “I don’t care about the damn toaster. You coulda gotten hurt.”

There is genuine concern in his light tone, a double meaning Jaeger isn’t ready to deal with just yet. So he huffs, thrusting forward one of his covered hands in an obvious motion, — long since gotten used to put on his gloves first thing in the morning, or at the very least, as soon as possible — ragged pink tissue barely peeking from the edge of the white material.

He might not be mentally prepared to talk about it, but Jaeger is emotionally detached enough to joke about it. A little sick and twisted, he’s man enough to acknowledge it.

Skull’s mouth twists into an unhappy frown but it’s gone as soon as it comes. If he didn’t know any better, Jaeger would call him out on it.

He doesn’t. Because he does know better. 

There are lines that even him doesn’t dare to cross.

“I don’t even like toasted bread, I got it for you.” Skull continues as if he hadn’t seen him, and Jaeger is under no illusions that the conversation is dropped. He’s also slightly touched for all of two seconds before Skull adds, “How am I gonna lure you into my kitchen to cook for me if I don’t even have anything to bribe you with.”

Jaeger rolls his eyes as he moves towards the counter, a plate in each hand. He sets down their breakfast minus the now burned bread in front of them. Jaeger is a little sad because he had been looking forward to eating that toast.

“Thanks for the sincerity,” he grunts. In a lower, softer tone, he says, “And for letting me stay with you guys.”

Skull grins. “As if we’d let you go anywhere else.”

They eat in amiable silence, their fiery spark eventually dimming. Neither of them being functional this early in the morning even though Skull is an early riser.

“Seriously though, are you alright?” Skull asks once he’s done washing the dishes and putting away the plates while Jaeger brushes his hair. “I’ve never seen ya this distracted before, not even at this ungodly hour. _Especially_ while you’re cooking.”

“It’s eight o’clock.” Jaeger says. He might not be a morning person but out of the two of them, he’s the practical one. 

Skull stares at him, as if to drive his point across. “Exactly.”

The corner of Jaeger’s lip curls up for a fleeting second. 

He waves off his concern. “Just thinking.”

Skull raises a hand, “Say no more.”

He ducks before Jaeger can cuff him on the head, laughing all the way.

“Since you’re such a smartass, I suppose you have no problem opening the shop on your own, right?”

“You’re a monster,” Skull complains, but gives up just as easily. “Whatever. I’ve been doing it for the past eight years. I’m not gonna melt if I do it one more time.”

Jaeger laughs under his breath. By the time Skull makes it to the door, the living room stands like an ocean between them.

“Ya know,” Skull looks over his shoulder, slowly grinning like the Cheshire Cat, light reflecting off his piercings. He clasps his hands together while cooing, “You could’ve just said you didn’t wanna run into the cute wittle florist from across the street and make an ass out of yourself. _Again_.”

He’s out of the apartment before the remote smashes on his head, crashing against the closed door instead.


	3. day seven

Jaeger leaves the studio with a request for biryani from Skull and a craving for dal makhani himself. Verde will be joining them for lunch after three days locked up in his lab with nothing but the healthy shakes Skull strong-arms him into whenever he goes on a binge, so they decided they could honor his preference for Indian food and get him his beloved korma.

Jaeger has not completely forgotten about his little incident a few days prior, but neither is he really thinking about it when he looks up to watch both ways before crossing the street, so he’s understandably taken by surprise when the colourful plants come across his field of vision.

The florist is showing someone the potted plants by the sidewalk, and he looks up right at the same time Jaeger catches sight of him.

They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity but is most likely just a few seconds, before the florist gives him a small smile and waves at him.

Of course, that’s when Jaeger’s brain decides that is as good a time as any to short-circuit. 

The florist’s smile falters and his waving slows down. His arm is still raised as if he couldn’t decide whether to retract it or stay like that, when Jaeger gets a grip on himself and remembers how to function. He waves back, movement a little stiff, but it seems to do the trick because the frown forming on the florist’s soft face disappears, and the tiny pleasant smile is back in place, though a tad bit shier.

He bolts out of there as soon as the last car passes by the side-street.


	4. day twenty

Jaeger will never admit it, but he’s having a staring contest with the very antichrist right outside of a pet store when a voice breaks him out of his daze.

“What has a kitten done to deserve such a glare, I wonder?”

Jaeger looks over his shoulder and tenses for a moment when he notices who’s behind him, before he forces himself to relax and slowly turns around.

The florist from across the studio stands in all his glory a few paces away from him. He’s looking dashing in a blue shirt and tight pants, a dark jacket hanging open from his frame and accentuating his figure.

He’s staring at him with kind, amused eyes, the hint of a dimple on his cheek the only sign he’s almost smiling. It’s not a cruel smile, the farthest thing from mocking, as if he’s laughing _with_ Jaeger and not _at_ him.

It still makes him a little unconscious. It doesn’t help that he forgot to smear the medication ointment before leaving the house and his skin is dry, worsening the itchiness caused by anxiety. He left his jacket on the car but he’s wearing a long sleeve, and even if he weren’t, his tattoos hide most of the burns on his arm. He’s taken to using gloves for the same reason: to prevent scratching and to get rid of the habit.

He shoves his hands into his pockets to fight the urge to hide his face behind his mask, which is unfortunately tucked under his chin, leaving his face exposed.

_Get a grip._

The florist looks at him with expectant eyes. Jaeger notices, almost consciously, that his gaze never wavers from Jaeger’s own; not once strays to skim over the horrid burn scars covering his neck and part of his jaw.

He also belatedly realizes he’s waiting for him to say something, and like the calm and collected adult he is, he blurts out, “He started it.”

_Jesus Christ._

The florist’s raises his eyebrows in amusement, and Jaeger has no time to reproach himself because he’s been blessed by a complete set of captivating dimpled cheeks, accompanied by a small, dazzling smile.

“I see,” the florist says, but doesn’t point out Jaeger’s stupidity. Jaeger thinks that if he were any other person, he might have fallen a little bit in love right then and there.

He gives a short, awkward nod, and stands there for a few seconds without really knowing what to say. He looks back at the cage after a moment and watches the small Bombay kitten watch him back, tail no longer the calm, indifferent swaying it had had going on, now a little more agitated, annoyed at being ignored.

“You know,” the florist says, “if it’s of any value, I think you should take him home.”

Jaeger looks to his side, bemused and bewildered.

“How do you know it’s male,” he has to ask. It _is_ a _he_ but Jaeger is curious.

The corner of the florist’s lip curls up, “I happen to know a thing or two about cats. Also, it’s in the plaque.” 

Jaeger’s head snaps back to the description box because, no, he would have remembered if it was in the– _oh._

…Nevermind the fact that Jaeger referred to it as such at the beginning of the conversation.

_What is wrong with me?_ Besides the obvious, of course.

“I’m just teasing,” the florist breathes out a laugh, and it almost sounds ashamed. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t funny.”

Somehow, instead of making him feel bad, it makes the rest of the tension leave his body. People don’t usually _tease_ Jaeger, too afraid or disgusted by his skin. Mock, sure, behind his back. Cruel people are everywhere. But no one other than his loved ones has ever teased him about something unrelated to his person.

It feels nice.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jaeger says, just so the florist knows he hasn’t offended him. “For a moment I thought you needed a new prescription.”

He regrets opening his mouth as soon as the words are out, thinking he might have overstepped, but then the florist perks up, not taking the jab to heart.

The florist looks at the kitten. “You two seem to get along already.”

Jaeger blinks owlishly, musing it over.

“I only came here to get octopus food,” he admits. Then, after a second’s hesitation, he extends his hand out for a handshake. He’s going to be seeing the man on an almost daily basis, once he gets back to work at the studio. He’s mostly working on his office, taking over the paperwork, but still. The least he can do is introduce himself. “I’m Jaeger.”

“Bermuda,” the florist says, taking it with an almost pleased expression. “An octopus, huh? Exotic.”

Jaeger looks away for a moment, giving in and tugging up his half face mask to hide the small smile threatening at the corners.

“It’s not what you think. My friend has one, but he’s busy at the moment so I offered to come for him,” he explains. “Oodako is a really spoiled brat though, so I had to drive two towns away to find something he’d actually eat. He’s lucky I like him.”

Bermuda chuckles at that. “Tell me about it,” he waves his hand a little, and is just then that Jaeger notices he’s holding an ecobag, stylish and maroon in color, where the top of a package of imported cat food peeks from, the kind he knows they only sell in this store.

He huffs out a laugh.

“Oh, you have a cat-” he’s about to do something he’s never done before, and that's engaging in conversation by asking what breed it is and what’s their name, when his phone goes off.

He shoots Bermuda an apologetic glance, because this is his personal number and no one ever calls him there — Skull prefers to text or send voice messages, and Verde downright forgets he even owns a phone — unless it’s important, an emergency or his brother, in which case it falls under emergencies anyway, but Bermuda’s already looking at him in understanding, the corners of his eyes pinched kindly.

“I’ll see you around,” Bermuda says with a parting smile before turning away. He walks a few paces before stopping, and then looks at Jaeger over his shoulder after sparing a glance to the kitten, “I still think you two would make a pretty good pair.”

And then he does walk away, leaving Jaeger standing in the middle of the sidewalk with a ringing phone.

* * *

“Your name is Damien,” he says half an hour later, after having talked to the landlord of the apartment he wants to rent, caressing the cat purring contently on the panel of his car without taking his eyes off the road. “And I am Jaeger. You’re going to help me get through the week from now on, alright?”

Damien only meows in response and Jaeger can admit in the safety of his own mind that he had been considering adopting him even before Bermuda showed up.

There’s something about Damien that nags at his mind, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. Maybe Alejandro will notice when he visits, and he’ll let him know. If he does. He’s always been the more attentive one.

That the florist’s eyes were also bright when he suggested it and there was something fond in his expression while he shook his ecobag slightly has nothing to do with it.

Zero. Zilch. Zip. Nada.

...Well, maybe a little bit.

It’s not like he can take him to the studio, so Bermuda will never know he got Damien. What are the odds?


	5. day twenty-five

God, if it even exists, hates him. That’s the only logical explanation.

“Well, if this isn’t a pleasant surprise.”

_Shut up, Skull._ Jaeger’s mind is going a thousand miles per hour.

The odds, it seems, are pretty high.

“When I said _see you around_ I didn’t quite mean it like this,” Bermuda says pleasantly, eyes sparkling. The shock of seeing Jaeger here of all places no longer shows on his face. Not that it had been there for longer than a fleeting second, but still. “Though I cannot say I’m complaining.”

He’s wearing a long, black dress jacket with a dark gray shirt and a vest, fit pants with black boots and glove-clad hands, not unlike Jaeger’s. He’s also wearing a frilled cravat, of all things, and it’s doing weird things to Jaeger’s heartbeat.

To top it off, he is also standing right outside of what is supposed to be the apartment of Jaeger’s new front door neighbor—or the other way around. Jaeger is the new neighbor.

“Oh, this is just delightful,” Skull says a little too wickedly, and Jaeger glares at him as if that will shut him up.

It doesn’t, instead he takes his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it. Dear lord, he just knows Verde is going to know about this. _Alejandro_ will know about this. 

He’ll never hear the end of it.

“I have to run.” Bermuda leans, catches his gaze, “See you around?”

There’s something regretful in his eyes though Jaeger can’t possibly imagine why, but before he can even begin to wonder, his mind is immediately distracted. That ridiculous top hat _shouldn’t_ look so good on him, but of course it does.

He gives him a hesitant smile, to which Bermuda perks up in return, even though he doesn’t quite smile. Jaeger tries not to choke on his words, and it’s only a little easier than he expects it. “See you.”

Bermuda takes his leave after bidding them goodnight and they go back inside, Jaeger no longer in the mood to go out and eat. Skull takes pity on him with a fond smile, clearly knowing how drained that interaction alone has left him, even if it hadn’t been an unpleasant experience.

He has never been one to know how to deal with unexpected situations. Whether they’re good or bad, they always seem to take a toll on him. Jaeger hates it, hates that he’s not outgoing like Alejandro or extroverted like Skull, both of whom seem to know their ways within people and can get any crowd to eat from the palm of their hands if they so want it to.

He and Verde get along because a lot of reasons, but he thinks this is the foundation of their friendship. They have worked hard to get to where they are right now, so that they could be their own boss and not have to answer to anyone they didn’t want to. They can do or deny requests, can choose what projects to take, what commissions they are willing to make, and they are _good_ in what they do, more than _great,_ so that it stays that way.

“It’s okay,” his best friend says kindly. “The great Skull-sama’s too tired to deal with fame right now. What do you say we order in?”

Jaeger gives him a small, grateful smile.


End file.
